


Indwelling

by lyrisey



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 17,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23287426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrisey/pseuds/lyrisey
Summary: Lisa brings home a stray.
Comments: 149
Kudos: 332





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Indwelling contains references and responses to physical and psychological abuse.

The only thing Lisa sees in the girl is death.

No name, no sense of who she is; just that she has powers and that's not enough to keep her alive, not enough for _Coil_ to keep her alive anymore.

She looks at the girl and knows her lifespan is measured in weeks at best, days at worst, and the only thing Lisa can find in her empty brown eyes and the bruises that mottle too-pale skin is an almost-placid acceptance that, soon, things will end.

Coil sees the look on her face and even without her power she knows he's smiling under that damnable mask.

And he gauges her expression, sits behind his desk, lets the silence build until it twists at Lisa's gut-

He says seven words.

"How much is she worth to you?"

* * *

She pays his price. Bundles the girl and her tattered scrubs into her car, drives them back to her apartment.

She talks along the way, enough for two girls combined, bouncing phrases, words, letters of the alphabet off the girl in the passenger seat who couldn't even buckle her seatbelt.

Lisa calls her 'Tee,' even though the girl has the affect of El Capitan; Lisa's power says it's her name, or a part of it, and that'll have to do for now.

* * *

Tee won't eat.

Well, that's not the problem.

She _will_ eat.

If Lisa tells her to.

And then she becomes this spindle-limbed starveling thing who eats and then _stops_ when there's no more.

 _Wants to obey_ , her power supplies, and Lisa doesn't feel like finishing her dinner anymore.

She pushes it across the table to Tee. "Here, it's yours."

Tee stares at the two plates in front of her, one empty, one full.

Says nothing.

Does nothing.

Doesn't even look up at Lisa; _avoiding eye contact_ , her power chimes, and she grits her teeth.

"I'm not hungry." The words come out with a savage little twist, something in her wanting to dig her words into Tee like fingernails and _pinch_ until she gets some, _any_ kind of reaction. "You eat it."

She helps Lisa do the dishes after.

* * *

Tee becomes Tay and Brian pulls Lisa aside with criticisms about _focus_ and _commitment_ and _responsibility to the rest of the team_.

She bites back words about honor among thieves.

She doesn't tell him about the dreams she has, where Tay is in the middle of a nightmare and she goes to wake her up and her eyes open and it's _her own_ eyes looking up at her, hurting and wordless and terrified like one of Bitch's strays.

He knows something's pulling her apart, but not what. Not who.

 _Coil_ knows who's caused her to come undone, reminds her of it every time he calls and asks oh-so-pleasantly about her 'charity case.'

"It's important to remember other people's circumstances," he says, honeyed and pleasant. "What's the phrase? _Today you, tomorrow me?_ "

She bites her lip until it bleeds and smiles with red hazing the crevices between her teeth.

She agrees to be good.

For her sake.

For Tay's sake.


	2. Chapter 2

Lisa drives home in a foul mood. Another day with the Undersiders, another day of having to discard plans of crime and heist; replace them with Bitchian dominance disputes, Regent's laconic sniping, and Grue being Sane and Responsible Moderation until she's ready to _scream_ at them through her blossoming headache _._

Getting takeout helps.

She gets home, dishes out chow mein for her and Tay and gets halfway through her plate before she realizes the other girl's food is untouched.

"Tay."

She doesn't look up.

"You- it's okay, you can go ahead."

And she doesn't. Tay sits across from her, hands in her lap, eyes downcast, waiting, _hungry-_

And Lisa just _can't_ anymore today. She can't deal with this right now, can't deal with someone else being _difficult_ today-

"God _damn_ it, Tay." The words come out as she exhales and they don't stop, her heart beating hard enough it makes her temples resonate in sympathy.

"It's _food_. You're hungr- you're _starving_ and it's right there and why can't you show some _fucking initiative_ for _once_ -"

For just a moment, Tay's eyes meet hers.

And there's something, alive, a spark in them that lights a fire under Lisa's power.

_Afraid._

_Not allowed to show initiative._  
_Expected to obey orders._  
_Given conflicting orders._  
_Punished if orders weren't obeyed._  
_Wants to obey you._

_Doesn't want to be the reason you're angry._

All those little facts apprehend in her corpus like frag from a hand grenade, sharp and burning and inextricable now that she _knows-_

"Oh." Her fist is pressed to her lips and that voice isn't hers, scared and small and sick and belonging to a girl who found her brother and no answers.

"Oh, _god._ "


	3. Chapter 3

Tay becomes Taylor becomes Tay again; Lisa figures out she doesn't want to be _called_ Taylor, that the sound of her name makes her feel small and ashamed.

_It's easier to be someone new than the person you were before._

She does some digging with undue diligence: finds a daughter's missing-persons report, stale with age, a father's obituary next to it.

* * *

"We need to do something about your hair."

Lisa says it half-playfully, isn't expecting the reaction she gets, the instant flinch of panic, a hand abortively brought up to the wildfired dandelion fluff that's come as Tay's hair has grown from roughly-trimmed stubble and tuft.

_Likes having hair._

_Afraid you'll cut her hair._

_Will not resist having hair cut._

_Hates that she can't fight you._

* * *

Tay does what Lisa tells her to do; this includes (thankfully) pushing her into the bathroom with _very_ general instructions about 'keeping yourself clean.'

She's definitely cleaner, afterwards; a wet washcloth and Lisa's power tell her Tay's sponging herself off in the sink, rather than using the shower like she thought she would.

"Tay?" It's just a word, but she watches the other girl freeze at the sound

"No, no, it's-" Lisa tries to collect her words, tries to be _gentle_. "Look, you can use the shower; you have permission, okay?"

She smiles, lopsided. "Hell, take a bath if you wa-"

A phantom hand catches at the bathroom door, slams it shut; She sees Tay's face, grey as the scrubs she wore when Lisa brought her home.

_Afraid of water._

_Used power without permission._

_Expects to be punished._

Lisa's hands find her shoulders, squeeze as she whispers soft negations and reassurances.

"What you're doing is okay," she whispers. "You're doing good, I promise."

The other girl leans into her, presses her face to Lisa's shoulder. Silent shudders rack her frame, and Lisa closes her eyes as she strokes Tay's shearling hair.

 _Needs you,_ her power soberly informs her, and Lisa can't help but wish that wasn't the case.


	4. Chapter 4

Lisa burns at both ends.

Without her power, every interaction with Tay feels like a cartwheel in a minefield.

Without her power, the other Undersiders see her as more and more dead weight.

She dry-swallows painkillers, defiles her body in an attempt to defuse the ache in her temples.

She isn't sure how to talk about what happened with the bathroom door, isn't sure how to broach the topic.

 _Used power without permission_ echoes in her head, earworm in counterpoint to _powers need to be used_.

Tay sits posed on the sofa, staring at the dark television with vague brown eyes as Lisa sits down next to her.

"Tay." She stops herself as the other girl's head turns, eyes lifting to meet hers, and she forces her power to _stop_ , because she already knows the abject-need-to-please that sits trembling in the dark-haired girl's gaze.

"I know you have a power." She hesitates, forges on. "It's. You don't have to f- you have my permission to use your power-"

The words spill out of her and they're _not working_ , there's no relief in Tay's eyes as she curls in on herself-

Lisa unstoppers her power.

_Has already been using her power._

_Cannot turn off power._

Her power muses about _sensory awareness_ , connecting the dots with how the girl stares out at the city all day and seems to see nothing, but all Lisa can think about is Tay.

_She's been using it and she didn't have permission and she couldn't stop herself, she tried to ignore it and she failed and she's-_

" _No._ " The word wrenches itself from Lisa's throat. "This is _not your fault._ "

She reaches over, takes Tay's hand, feels her stiffen, relax, fingers instinctively curling to twine with hers.

"I need you to show me what you can do."

Tay meets her eyes.

And eventually, ever-so-slightly, she nods.


	5. Chapter 5

Tay's power is doors.

Windows.  
Faucets.

Anything attached to a building's superstructure, she has the ability to manipulate from a distance.

Manipulate and perceive, even; Lisa watches as Tay sketches a crude plan of her apartment, identifies which cupboard door she chooses to open at random from two rooms away.

From _further_ ; Lisa watches people enter and leave the building from her apartment building, listens to Tay knock on the table each time the security door opens in flawless synchrony.

They're on the sixth floor.

 _Why'd he get rid of you?_ she thinks in a kind of sick admiration, and it's only when she sees Tay's knuckles whiten that she realizes she's said it aloud.

_Value to Coil came from psychological harm, punishment._

_Value from punishment exceeded value from obedience._

_Became unresponsive to punishment._

_No longer had value to Coil._

* * *

Hindsight is twenty-twenty; Lisa takes a dead father, a missing girl, cross-correlates and references with what she knows of Coil's operations.

_Explored buildings while learning to use power._

_Discovered bunker complex under building while exploring_.

"What did you do?" she muses to herself as she brushes Tay's hair, boar-bristles hissing like static through her black tufted curls. "God, how did you get under his skin like that?"

She digs deeper, finds security logs, realizes that the girl sitting with her on the couch gave Coil trouble for _months_ , he had to perform security audits while she ran _circles_ around him-

_Made him look foolish._

In Coil's personal accounts, she finds a receipt from a hardware store; tracks the SKU back and finds it's for... a toilet seat?

 _Bathroom fixtures attached to building superstructure,_ her power informs her smugly.

* * *

Lisa sleeps on the couch; head resting on a stolen pillow while she listens to cars drive by on the streets below and listens to the girl in the next room.

She finds tearstains in the morning, salt lilies on the bedclothes when she gets Tay for breakfast.


	6. Chapter 6

"I just want to say how _proud_ I am of you."

She's sitting on her couch, Tay next to her, her fingers squeezing Lisa's until she can feel the grate of bones in her hand.

Lisa doesn't tell her to stop; she wouldn't take that away from her.

"You've exceeded all my expectations. Taken something I thought was broken and lost, and made it useful to me again."

Because _Coil's_ standing in her living room, spidery and skeletal and he's in her _home_ , preening like a crow with a new shiny toy.

"And I've come to take back what's mine."

Tay's frozen next to her, and Lisa knows how scared she is; she knows what's waiting for the other girl almost as well as she does.

"No."

The word is so, _so_ small, and it pulls his attention from Tay to her like a compass needle, ophidian and predatory and Lisa's more terrified than she's ever been in her life.

" _No?_ " he echoes, and the word is dry as bone, hissing with sarcasm and threat and every muscle in her body is _aching_ with the strain of not trembling under the stress of his regard.

She swallows, wordless, shakes her head. Feels sweat pool in the small of her back as she looks up at him.

Trying not to blink.

Trying not to cry.

"And why's that, my little thinker?" Coil's found his balance again, his voice cold and sly and sour like he's been eating ashes.

"Because-"

She falters, has to start again, has to force the words out past the resistance of her throat and lips.

"Because you can have me, instead."

Tay's hand spasms in hers and Coil's _staring_ at her, his surprise visible even through his costume.

She can _taste_ his eagerness; her gut roils and she ducks her head, staring down at her knees.

The words come out, rolling off her tongue like she's taken ipecac.

"Please. Let her go. _Take me_."

There's a moment of silence.

"Do you really think I'm that cruel, Tattletale?" His voice is polished like a knife, sharp and smooth and gently chiding, and Lisa lifts her eyes.

She dares to hope.

"Even now, she's so dependent on you." His voice is syrup. "I wouldn't feel right, taking you and leaving her all alone."

Coil gestures, and just before the bag goes over her head, just before the world goes dark, she sees Tay's face, drawn into a rictus of grief and despair that hits her harder than anything since-

She wakes up on the couch, sweating.

* * *

She watches Tay get better, measures it inch by inch in increments of the other girl meeting her eyes, how she grows to handle a sink full of soapy water without disassociating and doesn't knot into tension when she hears footsteps from outside the apartment door.

Tay _smiles_ , and all Lisa can think about is _the dream_ and how Coil's waiting in the wings.

Patient.

Watching.

Ready for the moment when he'll take back what's his.

* * *

They sit on on the couch, watching a movie-

_Nearsighted._

- _Lisa_ 's watching a movie.

"We need to see about getting you some glasses," she murmurs to Tay, and watches her lips curve in a slight smile. Feels her lean against her, eyes closed as she pillows her head on Lisa's shoulder.

_Doesn't care about movie._

_Likes being with you._

_Feels safe._

And something _cracks_ in Lisa's heart as she puts an arm over Tay's shoulders, feels her shift closer...

...and she feels certainty set in her like concrete.

She holds Tay close, and makes herself a promise.

_He's never getting his hands on you again._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to NBBTCS and OxfordOctopus for ruminating on this.

_Coil's going to want her back._

_I won't let that happen._

The two statements are monoliths; they clash, Cyanean, inexorable, and Lisa's trapped between them.

She's alone-

 _Not alone_ , her power informs her as fingers tighten around hers, as soft brown eyes glint at her through drugstore reading glasses and Tay smiles, the curve of her lips gently lopsided-

She's not alone but she's _isolated,_ stuck in Brockton Bay, all her bridges burned.

The only pieces on the board that are even remotely hers are the Undersiders, and introducing her to them would be a hot mess; she's seen how Brian handles Alec, how he handles authority and incomprehension and how it colors every interaction with _Rachel-_

_Huh._

* * *

She stands in the courtyard, alone; holds the phone up to her ear, listens to the gentle rattle as the other end rings and rings-

It picks up; she hears dogs barking, someone breathing into the mouthpiece.

_Rachel breathing._

_Is distracted, was doing something, was interrupted by phone call._

"It's Lisa." She listens to Rachel's breathing, hears her breathe out in a staticky gust.

"What." The word is blunt like the girl, thick and heavy and more of a warning than a question.

_Annoyed. Was performing task._

_Knows who you are already. Irritated by waste of time, distraction._

_Task involved dogs - was training dogs._

_Call interrupted training - annoyed by interruption_.

Lisa bites her lip, lets her power unspool information, feels seconds tick away from her pre-pain ration because she _needs_ this to go well.

"Look, I..." She starts to hesitate, forces herself to continue. "I have a friend. And I'd like you to meet her."

The silent seconds unwind, blooming like one of Tay's teabags in hot water and turning scalding and bitter.

_Is confused, unsure of your motivation._

_Suspects being manipulated._

"No."

"Ra- it's not like that, she, she's..." Lisa finds herself fumbling for words, Rachel's irritation almost palpable, brooding anger thickening next to her ear.

_Is about to hang up._

"She's been hurt-" She sees a connection, takes it. "She's been abused, and I'm trying to help her."

Silence, the phone hot and sweaty against her ear, in her hand. She leans against the wall of her apartment building and listens to the dogs bark, crackling and snapping.

"Fine."

The breath rushes out of her, stucco snagging at her clothes as she finds herself sitting on the ground.

"Okay," she says, trying to ignore the prickling in her eyes, "okay, _thank you-_ "

"Five hundred dollars."

Lisa swallows, hesitates. Listens as Rachel fills the silence.

"I'm not a fucking babysitter. If you're bringing her, five hundred."

_Punishing you for interrupting time with dogs._

_Wants money to pay for dog supplies, medicine._

It's not a bad number; she has enough in her emergency stash to cover it just this once, and after Rachel meets her... she can negotiate something. She can _talk_ to Rachel; she's one of the few who can.

"...All right."

* * *

She's putting Tay to bed that night when the other girl balks; lifts her head, a flash of eye contact.

_Doesn't want to be alone._

_Has had nightmares._

She wakes up the next morning, finds Tay clinging to her like a burr on a sock; Lisa holds her, strokes her hair and listens to her gentle snore.

"Today's the day," she says to the sleeping girl.

"Today's the day things start to change."

* * *

Lisa breaches the topic as they eat pancakes.

"I'd like you to meet someone today."

Tay's fork stills; Lisa looks up, finds dark brown eyes intent on hers.

_Anxious about disruption of routine._

_Disruption of routine indicator of punishment._

"No, no, it's nothing _bad,_ " she hastens, trying to reassure the other girl, trying to explain. "Someone who might be able to help with... what happened to you."

The words are dull, unconvincing even to her, and Lisa _hates_ it, hates not being able to _explain_ without scaring her into a panic attack.

_Because I need allies if I'm going to take down Coil, and letting them get to know you is the best way I can think of to do that._

_Because the only person I can see as even_ **_possibly_ ** _being our ally is someone who values canine over human lives._

Tay's fork clicks against her plate, and Lisa's gut twists.

_Because I have to keep you safe._

She looks into Tay's dark eyes.

 _Not sure if she's ready to meet someone new,_ Lisa's power informs her.

_Not sure, but ready to trust you._

Lisa forces herself to eat; forces herself to hold her power in check, build up a reserve.

It's going to be a long day.

* * *

They leave the car, walking hand-in-hand along shuttered businesses and shattered sidewalks, Tay's hand pincer-tight and damp with sweat.

Standing on the sidewalk, hearing dogs bark as Lisa calls Rachel, tells her they're outside.

She glances over at Tay, sees her looking up at the crane mounted on the half-finished building.

_Curious if her power would work._

_Trying to distract herself, misses your apartment._

_Misses being_ **_inside_ ** _._

She squeezes her hand.

"I'm sorry," she says, her words soft; she tries a smile. "I didn't think it would be like this, we'll be inside soon."

And then the door opens, Rachel standing there in tank-top and jacket and battered jeans, the raw animal reek of dog washing past her and Lisa tamps down her power.

Rachel looks at her. Looks at Tay, who's taken a half-step behind Lisa, and she sniffs.

_Surprised._

_Was expecting you to bring dog._

"Where's the money?"

Her words have the same rough brutality that they did over the phone; Lisa pulls free of Tay's nerveless grasp, reaching into her bag and pulling out an envelope, holding it out and offered.

Rachel takes it, stuffs it into her jacket pocket as Lisa looks back at Tay-

-and Tay's _staring_ at her, complexion as grey as a newspaper left in the rain.

And in her eyes, Lisa sees Coil's question, re-asked:

_"How much is she worth to you?"_


	8. Chapter 8

It's like watching the lights go out in a skyscraper; Lisa can almost hear the _chunk-chunk-chunk_ of circuit breakers as she watches Tay shut down.

She catches her hand, tries to catch her eyes as Tay stares through her; Lisa forgets about Rachel, she forgets about the world; she would let the world _crumble_ around the two of them if it meant Tay met her gaze.

"It's not." Lisa's holding Tay's hand in both of hers, the pad of her thumb tracing over her knuckles. "It's _not._ "

She tries to talk, tries to tell her it's okay, it's not what she thinks, she's not _leaving_ -

She's holding Tay's hand and she can still feel the gap growing between them, unyielding distance growing and growing and _gone_.

Lisa's holding her hand, the pad of her thumb chafing Tay's knuckles, and Tay _isn't there anymore_.

She reaches for her power, strains as she brings it to bear, trying to read what's going on and getting the same result, over and over and over until she has to stop because she's not getting anywhere; the only thing that sticks in her head is _she doesn't think you want her._

She has to stop, brainsick and heartsick; she looks over her shoulder to see Rachel's door closed to her, to both of them.

 _Uncomfortable_ , is all her power manages.

Her mind supplies the rest:

 _She doesn't want you_.

* * *

She gets Tay home, tries to make things better; she tries again and she tries _again_ and _she tries again_ , over and over and over.

She sits on a beach, lights a signal beacon to say _here, this is home;_ she realizes too late that it's a pyre, that the only fuel she has left to burn is herself.

Tay's pulled away, distant, and Lisa can't help but read her future in that, _their_ future and her past all in one hideous, blurred melange.

She tells Tay it's okay for her to eat, bites back the words that come with every step as they cover old ground, again and again and _again._

She ignores her phone as it chatters and vibrates on her bedside table, eventually turns it off.

She cries in the shower; where Tay won't be there to see her knees give way as she hides her face in her hands.

* * *

Days pass before Tay meets her eyes again.

 _Days_.

And Lisa isn't prepared for what she finds there.

Hate? She could deal with hate, being despised; she was ready to meet Tay's gaze and see betrayal, the sick fury that comes with your life being in someone else's uncaring hands.

It's worse than that.

Tay looks at her, and all Lisa finds in her eyes is _guilt_.

 _Doesn't hate you,_ her power whispers.

_Believes it's her fault._

_Will try to do better._

**_Needs_ ** _you, more than she knows._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to NBBTCS and OxfordOctopus for looking over this.

Coil calls while she's making tea.

" _Sarah_." The word is a digitally-compressed caress down her spine.

_Using old name to reinforce power dynamic._

_Establishing control over conversation._

Her power spins, churning bright and _blindingly_ obvious until she holds it down, pins it under her mind's boot to try and make it _stop_.

"Sir." Her mouth is very dry.

"You haven't been answering my calls."

"I'm s-"

" _Sarah_." He makes her old name sound like a threat; she bites her lip to keep from saying anything, her heart beating nauseatingly fast.

"Pets are a big responsibility, Sarah." Coil laughs, soft and crackling like dried-out branches ready for the fire. "If you're having trouble focusing on your work, perhaps I need to step in."

_Willing to remove your 'distraction.'_

_Uses hostages to establish leverage._

_Wouldn't kill her._

"Sarah?"

_Repetition: second time he's said your name._

_Finds your reaction gratifying._

"This is a _conversation_ , Sarah. Communication goes both ways, you know that."

_Expecting a response._

_Wants to hear you break._

"N-no." Lisa forces a stammer into her voice, fingers squeezing her phone as he sighs, soft and pleased and satisfied.

" _No?_ " he echoes, the word breathy and horribly intimate and Lisa's back on her living room floor, Coil's voice in her ear and her head full of Pyrrhic sacrifice.

Her vision swims; she closes her eyes, feels a tear roll down her cheek.

And she swallows it all, her pride and her rage and her fear like white-hot fingernail clippings, working their way down her throat.

She says the words he wants to hear, promises obedience, commitment, fealty bordering on the sycophantic.

He says two words before he ends the call.

"Good girl."

* * *

Lisa stands in the kitchen; stares at her phone with tear-blurred eyes until the screen turns off.

She tries not to cry; she feels like a waxwork, unmoving and still until someone takes her to pieces.

The kettle whistles, shrill and insistent until an invisible hand turns off the range; she looks up and Tay's in the kitchen doorway, head ducked and arms wrapped tight around herself.

 _Afraid_ , her power whispers, and Lisa _hates_ her power, hates it for telling her something she already, inescapably knows.

Because Tay's been afraid ever since Lisa brought her home.

* * *

She brought Tay home from Rachel's, watched her get better, watched her get _worse_.

She brought Tay home again, and now all she can see is the terror that limns her, that defines every reaction Tay has; Lisa looks at her, and every day she feels her pulling further away.

 _Doesn't know what you want_ , her power whispers.

_Wants to do better._

_Doesn't know what that is for you._

_Doesn't want to push boundaries, doesn't want to be trouble._

_Expects guidance._

_Expects punishment._

_Trying not to think about you getting rid of her again._

* * *

"Tay." Her voice husks, cracks; Tay's head lifts, her gaze slides to meet Lisa's, attention fixating with an almost-audible click.

Lisa swallows, forces a smile onto her face. "Wait for me on the couch? I'll bring the tea out."

She watches Tay smile, smooth and bright.

She watches Tay smile, and it's just as false as hers.

* * *

She comes back into the living room and Tay looks up at her and _smiles_ , soft and earnest and her eyes put the lie to it all.

Lisa's eyes sting; she sets the mugs she's carrying down on the coffee cable, sits down on the couch next to Tay.

"We need to talk," she says, and she feels Tay go still.

She reaches over, folds her fingers over Tay's, feels calluses and scars on her knuckles and fingertips as her power purrs details about _wet concrete walls_.

And Lisa starts telling her story, the one about the homeless girl in the alleyway and the man who bought her at gunpoint.

She looks up from Tay's hands, finds the other girl's brown eyes intent on her.

"It was Coil," she says, and Tay, that _connection_ , turns off like she's flicked a switch, eyes wide and blind and _terrified_ as she stares through Lisa like she isn't there.

It hurts more than she thought it would; opening herself and remembering the texture of brick ground into her cheek and the helplessness that came with it, opening up to Tay, showing her her pain and saying _no, we are the same, we both hurt, you're not alone_...

She's back to square one, again.

She's alone, except for her tears.

* * *

She's all cried out. Dry-eyed, drained as she stares at her cold mug of tea.

 _Not alone_ , her power informs her as fingers tighten around hers.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to HorizonTheTransient and OxfordOctopus for kicking this off again.

Lisa's back at square one.

Everything between her and Tay feels like it's been wiped clean, sandcastles washed away in the sea change.

She has to start over, but she isn't starting _alone;_ Tay's with her again, redoubted affection returned and suddenly, staggeringly sincere. Brown eyes meet hers and Lisa reads in them the unspoken _you are seen, you are_ ** _known_** _to me._

They're starting all over again, and they're doing it _together_.

Lisa begins to realize she's not a caretaker anymore; their relationship is tighter, inward-turning, reciprocal in a way she never expected it to be.

She takes care of Tay, and she begins to see how Tay starts to take care of _her_ , a tidal swell of gentle affection, wordless and faltering but still somehow honest in a way that touches something inside her.

* * *

"I saw the recipes you bookmarked."

They're on the couch again, Lisa up against one armrest with her laptop and research, Tay at the other extremity with a book, their ankles loosely entangled in the middle.

She feels Tay's tension, watches her eyes flick up from the page, her gaze tainted with unresolved trepidation

"Takeout not doing it for you anymore?"

She tries to soften the words, show that she's turning the blade of her wit on herself; she watches the corner of Tay's mouth tense in a suppressed smile.

_Wants to help._

_Wants to help_ **_you_ ** _._

_...also tired of Thai_ , her power adds as an afterthought.

* * *

Lisa sits in the Undersider's lair, presenting Coil's suggestion for their next job, watching her patter rebound off her audience like rain on plastic sheeting.

Brian pulls her aside when she's done, mouthnoises at her about _responsibility to the team_ and _missed calls_ and if she wants to be part of the team, she has to be _there_ for the team.

* * *

Lisa closes the door to her room behind her, leans back against it, tries to _breathe._

 _I'm not hiding,_ she thinks. _Brian knows exactly where I am._

The doorknob rattles, the plane of the door jumps against her back, and Lisa sucks in a sharp breath, steps away and spins, reaching out to pull the door open and give Brian-

Only it's not Brian.

Rachel stands in the hallway, thick distaste furrowed in her brow and dark eyes as she looks at Lisa.

"You fucked up," is all she says, and the petulant vitriol trapped in Lisa's chest _writhes_ as she tries to keep it tamped down.

_Is referring to you bringing Tay over._

_Not accusing._

She looks at Rachel; sees how the other girl's just watching her, not judging, not _blaming_ , making a statement of fact rather than an underhanded insult.

She watches as Rachel reaches into a pocket, pulls out a battered, grimy, _familiar_ envelope.

She stares at the envelope. Stares at Rachel, uncomprehending.

"You wanted me to meet your girl," Rachel says, thrusts the envelope at her. "I never met her."

Lisa swallows, the first thought on her lips a reflexive _she's not my girl_ as her power clicks into place, unspools detail.

_Sympathetic._

_Empathizes with you. Didn't expect to_.

Rachel shifts from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. "You going to take the money, or what?"

Lisa reaches out, takes hold of the envelope.

Inspiration strikes, and she pushes it back into Rachel's hands, watching the other girls' eyes widen, off-balance.

"You haven't met her _yet_ ," Lisa says.

* * *

She sits down with Tay on the couch, and she begins to lay out her thoughts.

She talks about their _mutual problem_ , speaks in great circles about Coil, avoiding his name so they can have a conversation rather than a minefield.

"I hate what he's doing," she says, watching Tay, gauging her response. "But I can't do anything about it alone."

Tay reaches over, curls her fingers into the space under Lisa's thumb, squeezes her hand.

_Nervous._

_Receptive._

_Trusts you._

"We need allies," Lisa says.

She takes a breath.

"Which is why I'd like you to meet my friend, Rachel..."


	11. Rache

She hears the dogs bark outside as she sits and watches the door.

They're gone, now.

Lisa and her stray have been gone for an hour.

She doesn't feel like moving.

She sits there and stares at the door, and she tries to understand.

She feels... _bad_. Ashamed. Like she's made a mess without intending to.

It's something she hasn't felt for a while, the sort of feeling that came when she lived with humans, when they had expectations for her.

That doesn't happen anymore. She's the only one who gets to make herself feel bad.

She thinks back to when Lisa showed up on her doorstep, how she fell apart.

How it reminds her of a woman watching a pool cover glide over rippling water, a child begging at the limit of reason.

It makes a connection between her and Lisa.

She's uneasy with that connection, with who it makes her if she _doesn't_ help.

Bitch looks down at the envelope in her hands, turning it over before shoving it in her jacket pocket and standing up.

She's not going to open it.

She has work to do.

* * *

She stares down at the paw in her hand.

"It's fucking stupid."

Judas huffs, watches her as she speaks, then goes back to panting, tongue out.

Bitch gets a better grip on the trimmers, lines them up. Squeezes and hears the _click_ as metal cuts through toenail.

Judas doesn't move, holds still for her the way he's been trained to.

"That's it," she murmurs, half for herself, half for him; he hears the encouragement in her words and his tail thumps, brushing back and forth.

It's fucking stupid, though. Going back to Lisa. Giving back the money, agreeing to _try again_.

She puts down his paw, picks up the other. Fits the trimmers around a nail, squeezes.

 _Click_.

She feels Judas pull, watches his ears go back, realizes she's cut higher than she wanted.

Bitch clicks her tongue, sits until Judas relaxes, praises him.

This, _this_... this is what she does.

She understands dogs. Dogs are easy; all the nuance of posture, reaction, status, she fits to them like keys in a lock.

Humans? Humans are...

Humans are _words_. They're like reading, something she has to focus everything on, so she only looks stupid most of the time instead of all the time.

"What the fuck does she want me to do?" she asks Judas. Watches him focus, ears forward, eyes on her. "She's... I don't..."

She huffs, a sigh echoing Judas as she closes her eyes.

"Wish she'd brought a dog."

Heavy warmth presses into her side, rests on her shoulder. A cool nose touches her cheek and Bitch looks over, sees Angelica, watching her with dark eyes.

She puts down Judas' paw, wraps an arm around Angelica, buries her fingers in her wiry coat.

She thinks about another stray, dark-haired, dark eyed... and the key fits the lock.

* * *

She sits and she waits.

She hates waiting.

Hates how she has to sit and let anxiety chew at her; hates how the dogs pick up on her tension, echo it back at her with pricked ears and posturing.

It's like the nerves that come before she goes out on a job: the kind where she knows the plan, knows what she has to do.

Knows what she _lacks_ , can see the spaces between all the steps where things can go wrong.

There's a lot of space around her, right now.

Delilah sits by her side, presses into her like a black-furred burr; she strokes the dog's broad head, digs her fingers into her scruff, scratches, and listens to her huff a sigh.

"It'll work," she says, more for herself than the dog. "You'll be good."

There's a knock at the door, and Brutus and Judas erupt in frenzied barking.

Wait's over.

She gets up, dogs pressed to her legs, circling her like the nervous insides of an old clock. Curls her fingers around Delilah's collar as she pulls open the door.

Lisa's standing there in jeans and a jean jacket, clothes designed for the appearance of roughness but haven't seen dirt or hard wear. Their eyes meet: she watches the corner of Lisa's mouth jump and twist, starting to curl into a smile before she smooths it back out.

Bitch tries to focus on her eyes, forces herself to remember how Lisa sounded the last time she was here, using the desperation in her voice to defuse the hot spike of anger she feels.

Her friend's there, too. Not hiding - she's too tall for that - but subdued: head bowed, shoulders hunched under her too-large sweatshirt, pressed into Lisa's side and back the same way Delilah's leaning into her leg.

"Hey." The word comes out rougher than she wants it to, and she watches Lisa's friend - _Tay_ \- flinch, brown eyes darting up to meet hers before flicking away.

She can hear the tension in her voice, in her posture, and tries to relax; settles her weight onto her back leg, reaches out to the girl, deliberately overextending herself.

Making it clear that she's in a position where all she can do is reach out, that a strike or a grab would leave her off-balance.

She remembers a second too late that fists aren't for humans. Opens her fingers, shows Tay her palm.

Tay looks at her hand. Lifts her head, looks at her.

Their eyes meet and Bitch watches the tension coil and twist under Tay's skin, how her jaw clenches, how she stills herself and can't help trembling.

Bitch forces herself to stay still, to keep her face neutral. To let this play out without giving that tension any purchase.

It'd be easier if they were dogs: to just have the wary circling, sniffing, the tidal swell of primacy and the simplicity of _knowing_.

Tay lowers her eyes, and Bitch lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Come in." She beckons, steps backward, pulling Delilah along with her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Tay glance at Lisa, step through the door-

\- and even out of the corner of her eye, under the bulk of the sweatshirt, she can see the girl freeze, shoulders up around her ears, arms a tight knot around her middle.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

She watches Tay. Tries to keep her voice neutral. "Nobody here is going to hurt you, as long as you don't hurt them."

She hates the words- hates that she has to _say_ the words instead of using what she already has with tone and body language. Hates that it feels fake, probably _sounds_ fake.

Hates that she has to make guesses about how Tay feels about what she's saying.

Her fingers flex, squeeze around Delilah's collar.

"This is Delilah," she says. "She's going to come over and say hello." She tries to remember the words she needs to use. "She's not going to hurt you unless you hurt her."

Bitch crouches down next to Delilah, lowers herself down until she can see Tay's eyes, can get her attention.

"Hold still and let her smell you."

There's a flicker in her eyes, the girl's throat working as she swallows, but no out-and-out panic, no fear or aversion.

She lets go of Delilah's collar. "Dee, greet."

It's a stupid command. A trick for a dog to perform, training them to be polite to humans when it's not that fucking hard for a human to learn to be polite to a dog.

She watches Dee pad over to the girl, claws ticking on the hard floor. Watches Tay hold still, stock still, hands by her sides as Dee approaches, circles, sniffs... and shoves her muzzle under the girl's fingers, nosing her hand as Tay lets out a choked little sound.

She wouldn't train Judas or Brutus or Angelica to greet; they have jobs to do, and she wouldn't ruin that by making them do tricks.

Which is why she got Delilah. Went shelterhunting for a dog, the right kind of dog for what she needed, found a pibble-lab mix who'd just whelped, pups already weaned. Who looked up at her with soft eyes and let her tail thump once against the floor.

Someone who'd cared for pups and small things, who had instinct and experience. Someone Bitch can understand.

Just what she needed.

She looks at Lisa, still standing outside. "Get in here," she says, her voice rough. "And close the door."

* * *

Tay sits with Dee in a blanket-strewn corner, eyes closed as she strokes black-furred velvet ears.

Bitch sits with Lisa at the table, hates how she smells like sweat; not the kind that comes with work or a fight, but fear-sweat, strong enough that even Bitch can smell the difference.

Lisa looks up from her phone, watches Tay for a moment. "You know," she says, "animal therapy usually doesn't involve treating someone like an animal."

Bitch knows there's a gotcha in there, some Tattletale sarcasm she doesn't have a handle on.

She grunts, watches the girl and the dog. "It works."

"Yeah," Lisa says, and Bitch can hear the warmth in her voice; wonders what Lisa's seeing that she isn't.

* * *

They're gone, now.

Lisa and her Tay left an hour ago.

She thinks things went well, at least as well as they could have gone: no tears, no blood, some misunderstandings.

Delilah snores, a black-furred weight heavy on her lap.

It went well.

Well enough that she'd be okay with Tay coming back, even Lisa coming with her as long as she keeps her mouth shut.

Bitch isn't sure if she's okay with things being okay.

With being comfortable with humans, being _close_ to them, having them in her territory.

Having to watch herself, her tone and words and posture, to act human and correct herself when she's not.

Rachel already knows what that's like, being around people who want her to be something else and how she fought and fought and _fought_ against that.

How they tried to break her down like someone broke Tay down.

She remembers Tay's eyes, brown and full of hurt, and she can't help but think:

_If I had broken like her, maybe I wouldn't have hurt anyone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rachel is a fascinating character, but -god-, writing POV for her is draining.


	12. Inverse Kinematics

His headset crackles. _"Reinforcements, three minutes."_

Alec leans around the edge of the window frame, feels sweaty fingers shift against slick plastic as he watches black-clad figures shuffle and dart from car to bollard to building, a choreography metered by tactical considerations.

He's not worried.

After all, he's the one flanking them.

There's always a straggler; in this case, a figure in tac gear at the back of the group, posted up against a concrete planter and watching their line of retreat.

Admirable.

Alec lifts his rifle, sights in the figure's helmet... and squeezes the trigger, feels the vibration of recoil as a three-round burst _tattaktaks_ right where it's meant to, painting the planter with wet red crimson.

He pulls back into cover as the squad fragments in confusion and panic and the rest of his team open fire.

 _"One left,"_ someone says over his headset. _"No shot."_

Alec risks a glance, then risks a whole lot more as he mantles over the windowsill, landing in a crouch on the street below and lifting himself into a straight run.

His target's preoccupied, peeking around a corner just as he was a moment ago, and Alec decides to have some fun.

He slows his pace, footfalls silent as he approaches.

And then he shouts, wordless, delighted, a smile on his face as the guy jerks, tries to turn-

-and Alec unloads a magazine into him on full auto, gently-purring recoil stitching a strand of red bursts up his opponent.

He watches the figure crumple, steps until he's straddling the featureless helm, and crouches three times, a quick little tap-tap-tap on his controller as he listens to the guy cuss him out over open voice chat.

"It's just a game, man," he says when the other player pauses for breath. "You'll understand that once puberty hits."

Things escalate from there.

* * *

"You know," someone says as Alec is in the middle of describing a _chenil de votre mère_ and the actions that would take place within said doghouse, "you're going to get banned for talking shit like that."

Alec turns his head, arches his back until he can see Brian, standing in the doorway. He grins at him. "That's why I'm using your account."

He can see how Brian takes that; how he hears the words, processes them, and decides to let the matter sit in favor of more mature concerns. "Have you seen Lisa around recently? I need to talk to her about our next job and she's been ducking my calls."

Alec turns back to the TV as the next round starts. " _Someone's_ in trouble..." he says, voice not quite a sing-song.

He hears Brian exhale, frustrated. "No, I just need to talk to her. Have you seen her or not, Alec?" Brian asks, stressing the last syllable so it comes out _aleck_.

Alec thumbs through the equip screens, picking guns and gear. "Last time I saw her was a few days back, when Rachel was looking for her." Round starts and he leans forward on the couch. Gotta get in position.

" _Rachel?_ What did she want Lisa for?"

Someone calls for covering fire, and Alec obliges. "I dunno. Girlfriend stuff, I think."

"Rachel has a girlfriend?"

He lets that sit as he holds position, waits as someone walks into his sights, pulls the trigger. Headshot, nice.

" _Lisa_ has a girlfriend."

Brian doesn't say anything, and Alec glances over the back of the couch, expecting surprise, bafflement, an incredulous 'no way'.

Brian's frowning. Like this isn't just gossipy rumor funtimes.

Like this is _serious_.

And then someone rounds the corner and Alec shoots them.

Priorities, you know.

He feels the couch settle as Brian leans on the back. "Alec. What did she say about a girlfriend?"

Alec shrugs. "Wasn't paying attention. Rachel was talking with her, said something about 'your girl,' how she hadn't met her or something?" He pitches a flashbang around a corner. "Why're you being such a clenchfucker about it? Love's love, man, Legend's a legend."

There's a _crump_ and the screen flares bright. Forgot to look away.

"Because Lisa told me once," Brian said, "that she doesn't date. She can't. Something in her power doesn't let her have relationships, it screws with the interpersonal connection, something."

His hands grip the back of the couch, squeeze the cushions until Alec can hear the frame creak, can hear the concern and tension knotting up his voice.

"So, if her power does that to her, how does she have a _girlfriend?_ " Brian asks.

And Alec doesn't have a comeback for that.


	13. Chapter 13

Lisa sits at her desk, stares at the strata of papers and scratchpads filled with scrawl; sits there long enough for her laptop to take a nap.

Not for the first time, she wishes she had a conspiracy wall like the one she has at the loft, something that would let her see everything.

She's just so _busy_.

Keeping up the pretense that she's still Coil's, running his little intel errands all over the city like a good girl and pushing all the sick fear she can muster into her voice when he calls.

Trying to figure out what to do with Rachel, and not just scheduling their little hangout-therapy sessions for Tay - Lisa knows how Rachel operates, knows what drives her. Knows that one day Rachel's going to look at her and ask who did this to Tay, and she doesn't know what she's going to say to that.

And then there's dealing with the Undersiders as a whole; she checked her calendar, and it's been long enough since their last job that the others are going to start getting itchy for funds or a fight - the kind of thing she's always been the one to plan.

She jolts as her phone rings, turns it over to see who's calling. Sees it's Brian, stares at his name until her phone goes silent and dark.

She calls her voicemail, already knowing what she's going to hear.

"You have **four** new messages," her mailbox says, and then it's Brian going "Hey Lisa, it's Brian-"

 _Concerned,_ her power whispers. _Worried about team, team dynamics, pretending concern for you-_

She hangs up, gut churning.

 _I tried. It's not my fault_.

It's not her fault. Just like it's not his.

It's not his fault he sounds like Coil when he talks like that, warm and superficially concerned for her.

She hates this. Hates that there's an aching secret in her life, one she's kept from him long enough that telling him becomes about why she _waited_.

Hates that her silence means he thinks he's _right_ to see her the way he does, as someone who can't commit, who has more _important_ petty concerns; someone who rejects her responsibilities.

Knuckles sound on her doorframe, and she looks up, sees Tay standing in the doorway with an empty hamper.

"Laundry's done?"

Tay bobs her head, a jerky nod - Lisa's been trying to come up with things for Tay to do, things to keep her occupied and get comfortable with her power again, and the fact that the laundry machines in the building count as superstructure is... surprisingly useful.

Lisa stuffs her phone and her keys in her pockets, takes the hamper from Tay, gets up and heads for the front door.

She pauses with one hand on the doorknob, looks back at the other girl.

"You want to come with?" She keeps her tone light, lets her know that it's an offer, not a demand; isn't surprised when Tay's response is a fierce shake of her head, forceful enough it almost dislodges her reading glasses.

Lisa's power pushes at her, hints at depths she already knows; she pushes it back, smiles. "It's okay," she says. "You've got your phone, I've got mine; if anything comes up, just call or text and I'll come right back."

Tay nods and Lisa's out into the hallway, hearing the door close and the bolt click behind her.

* * *

She has room to think as she heads down to the laundry room, motion kicking ideas loose in her head.

She needs to find the old common ground she had with the Undersiders, reopen communication, reconnect to Brian, maybe Alec.

But reconnection means explanations. Why she's been avoiding them, why she hasn't been 100% team Undersiders like she has in the past.

The problem there is that any explanation is going to involve Tay.

And any explanation involving Tay is going to end with a single question, the one she's been dreading Rachel asking, the one Brian's going to ask.

_Who did this to her?_

And the only answer Lisa has is _Coil_.

The only answer she has is one that turns her from Tattletale into a girl in an alley with an offer she can't refuse.

A victim.

* * *

She pulls hot laundry out of the dryer, piles it in the hamper without sorting or folding - she can do that when she gets back.

The elevator ride back to her floor takes longer than before, weighted by her concerns.

Laundry offered her respite. There's nothing here to force her into action, only hot cotton and the plastic-flower scent of detergent.

And now she's going back, watching how the floor lights increment up, and the time ticks closer to when Lisa is going to have to _act_ , to make a decision about how to move forward.

She's going to get back to her apartment, fold laundry with Tay, and then...

...and then she's going to have to do something. Contact Brian, let him know that she's still onboard, that she's still a part of the Undersiders, still wants to 'contribute to the team.'

She can send him an email. Longer than a text, not as stress-inducing as a conversation, can still use smilies.

Perfect.

She's made her decision, but it doesn't resolve the feeling in her gut that comes with the thought of talking to him, with how her head keeps jumping forward, wanting to game out telling him about Tay, about Coil, about _her_.

The thing is, she _knows_ Brian. And she knows how past events and his personality intertwine, knows there's every likelihood he'll slot her into the same pigeonhole as his kid sister: turn her into someone to protect, someone who doesn't get a say in how he protects her.

The elevator slows.

Stops at her floor.

The doors open and Lisa steps out, hamper braced against her hip as she digs in her pocket for her keys.

The smell is the first thing she notices; a wet-blossoming sharp pungency, faintly medicinal-

_High-proof grain alcohol._  
_Not metabolized._  
_Not consumed._

"Liiisha!" a too-familiar voice slurs, and she turns her head, sees Alec leaning against the wall by the elevator.

He smiles, sloppy and lopsided, cheeks flushed red from his climb up the stairs: to all appearances a boozed-up rich kid just making his way home, if it wasn't for the way he watches her.

 _Sober_ , her power remarks.  
_More sober than he's been in years._


	14. Chapter 14

In the moment, she finds herself fixating on his clothes: fresh-bought and unwashed, off-the-rack creases settling poorly on his rakish frame.

He's wearing a coat, a long one that comes down to his knees, and she can see his shirt underneath: the light colors darkened with a splash of Everclear, clinging to something that isn't flesh underneath.

_Body armor._  
_Coat concealing mask, scepter._  
_Ready for trouble._  
_Not expecting trouble._

Her fingers curl around the keys in her pocket, the bitting biting into her flesh.

"Alec," Lisa says, tries to sound nonchalant, casual; tries to match his stance, his tone, show that nothing's wrong even as he's at her _home_. "What's up? You don't usually make house calls."

His smile stretches, widens. "Well, Lise... Brian may have found out about 'your girl,' and... well... he kinda flipped his shit, you know? Team Dad apparently thinks you're as dateable as a rat trap in a deep freeze."

 _Told Brian himself,_ her power whispers. _Playing both sides_.

"And he's _totally_ freaking out. Thinking you're gonna start your own 'study group' with all the girls and leave everyone else in the lurch."

Fuck.

_Fuck._

Brian thinks she's _poaching_? Headhunting her own team so she doesn't have to deal with...

...shit. That actually makes sense.

"Me?" Alec says, cheerful and edged. "I'm just here to wish my blessings on the happy couple."

He pulls a hand from his coat pocket, gestures, and Lisa's arm cramps, jerking the fist of keys out of her pocket; her hand flexes, spasms open, keys flying through the air.

And Alec catches them, hefting their weight and making them jingle in his fingers.

"Sure, Lise," he says, "I'll open your door for you."

And then he's off down the hall, coat flapping behind him; Lisa can feel her lips curl, her fingers gripping the hamper handles until plastic cracks.

 _Brian doesn't know he's here._  
_Didn't tell Brian._  
_Would have insisted on backup._  
_Backup would make this into_ work _._

_Not interested in your welfare._  
_Taking advantage._  
_Wants to upend dynamic._  
_Wants to use your vulnerability._

She rushes after him, catches up as he stands by her door.

 _Knows where you live_ , her power hums. _Found mail in your room_.

Fuck.

He's already sorting through her keyring, turning over the keys for car and loft and storage unit, and Lisa wants to protest, to get him to _stop_ , is aware that she can't make a scene in a public place like this, right outside her apartment.

_Fuck._

He finds her apartment key. Slots it into the lock, turns it.

And he's in, leaving the door open behind him.

* * *

"You've got a nice place, Lise."

She rushes in after him, shuts the door behind her, leaves the hamper in the entryway.

Finds him already prowling through her living room, brushing white-gloved hands across the back of her couch, the line of a shelf. Tay's nowhere to be seen; Lisa sees a protein bar wrapper on the coffee table, and feels an odd mix of pride and annoyance, thinks _we were just about to have dinner_.

"Alec." He looks over his shoulder at her, smirking. "I don't want you here."

"But _Lise_ , I just _got_ here, and now you want me gone?"

She feels her jaw clench. "Yes. Out. We can talk about this tomorrow or whatever, but this is where I _live_. There are boundaries."

He half-turns, leaving himself in profile; taps a gloved finger against his lips as they twist into a moue of faux-contemplation. "Mmmm... no."

"Alec-"

"Lisa, if I leave now, Brian's gonna want to know where I was." He turns, faces her, hands out of his pockets. "And I'm gonna tell him I was here, and that you kicked me out and _yes Brian, that_ is _very suspicious_." He smiles, looks almost beatific with his dark curls and raised palms. "On the other hand, if I stay and meet your girl... well, I can go tell Brian about _that_."

Lisa thinks of the baseball bat under her bed. Hates that she can't do anything with it, she can't do anything with _this._

Hates that there's only one road before her.

"Fine." She practically spits the word out, not even hiding her distaste. "Just, I need you-"

"So how'd you two meet? Mixed up your coffee orders at the Starbucks?"

 _I bought her from the man holding a gun to my head._ "Something like that."

He's already turning away from her, starting to wander as he looks around. "Don't wanna talk about it? Gotta be _embarrassing_ , Lise."

She watches his gloved fingers brush along a wall, knock a picture frame ever-so-slightly askew.

Watches him pass by a door, fingers brushing across the trim.

And he pauses. "What's in here, Lisa?" His tone's light, playful, but there's still an edge to it, like someone laughing at a joke that might turn into something they didn't expect.

"Linen closet? You know, where you put things after you wash them." She watches as he frowns, rests his hand on the doorknob.

 _Wait. Shit. He works with nerves, he can_ sense _someone's nervous system_.

She can see it in her mind's eye, Tay hiding in the closet, dark and soft and _scared_ because there's someone in her _home_.

Alec turns the knob, starts to pull the closet door open.

"Alec-"

He isn't _listening_ as he opens the closet door, sees what's inside.

And Lisa watches his face, as surprise and confusion surge and fall back and something unhealthy takes their place as he sees _who's_ inside.

"Oh," he breathes, an awful little smile crooking his mouth. "Oh, _Lisa_."

He says her name like it's revelatory, like he's uncovered something both vile and delightful.

"This is something I didn't expect, not from _you_."

He leans forward, reaches into the closet, murmuring "Let's have a look at you," and Lisa wants to tell him to _stop,_ to leave her alone.

Her power clicks in, triggers off something in the set of his feet, the line of his back, the shape of his face and his words.

 _Experience handling damaged people._  
_Experience_ creating _damaged people._

 _Thinks you're like him._  
_Assumes she's yours_.

She watches his shoulder brace, as he starts to set his weight back, as he grabs Tay, starts to pull her out, and she realizes that he's not _interested_ in Tay, except as something he can use to find what makes Lisa weak.

" _Alec-_ "

The word is a threat, one that comes too late as the closet door slams itself closed on his arm.

She hears something crack - the door or the frame or Alec's arm - and she reaches for him-

-but the door's quicker than her, than him, swinging open and slamming back again, trying to force itself closed, the wood creaking as it bows against Alec's arm and he cries out, the sound raw and inarticulate.

Lisa grabs at his shoulder, his arm, heaves with panicked strength. "Let _go_ ," she shouts, isn't sure if she's trying to tell Alec or Tay. Heaves, helps Alec pull his arm free, coat torn, glove missing, skin scraped and bloody.

The closet door clicks closed and her power whispers about _fractures_ and _hasn't been hurt like this since he was small_ , and Lisa can't bring herself to _care_ as she watches him sag against the far wall, arm clutched to his chest, mouth working like a landed fish as he stares at her, hurt and baffled.

And she _hates_ him for it. Hates how he's suddenly a victim here, how he's the one who came into her _home_ and ends up hurt and misunderstood.

She stares at him in the aftermath of his casual violation and she sees him and she sees _Coil_ and before she realizes it she's grabbing the front of his shirt, fingers catching at the armor underneath as she grabs him and _pulls_ , jerks him from where he's leaning until he's standing, staggering.

She hauls him through her apartment, drags him to the front door.

Kicks the laundry basket out of the way as she opens the door, shaking and furious, and pushes him out into the hallway.

He stares back at her, that wounded-dog bafflement still in his eyes as he opens his mouth to say something-

She beats him to it, feels the drumming of her heart in her chest and her fists.

"Get out and stay out, you _heartbreaking son of a bitch,_ " she snaps, and slams the door closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alec: _je t'adore_  
>  Tay: _shuts the goddamn door_


	15. Chapter 15

Lisa stands in front of the door, sees how it's bloodied, battered, unbroken.

Envies it as she places her hand on the knob. Squeezes. Turns.

Feels the mechanism shift, hears the latch click free.

Lisa pulls-

-the door refuses to open; might as well be part of the wall, for how much it moves.

* * *

The heat of the moment's cooled, congealed into a sort of sick sensibility. Lisa remembers their first trip to Rachel's, how her mistake pulled Tay down into numb compliance.

How she drew her back up afterward.

"Tay? Can you please open the door? It's..." She swallows. "Alec's gone. I've locked the door, he can't come back, and if he ever tries this again I swear I'm going to break his other arm."

Nothing.

She closes her eyes, lets her head slump forward until her aching head presses against the cool surface of the door.

"I- I just want to make sure you're _okay_ ," she tells Tay. "I know he grabbed you, I just want- I don't know if he hurt you and-"

The doorknob twists in her hand, moving under her fingers without any input from her: left, then right, then back to center.

"Tay?" She feels brass shift against her fingers, the knob twisting to the right.

* * *

They establish a sort of rapport, open a line of communication; one bridge Lisa hasn't burned yet.

Left-right is no, right is yes.

Is she hurt?  
No.

Can she come out?  
No.

 _Feels th_ _reatened,_ her power echoes.

"But Alec- he's gone, I threw him out, he's not coming back. You don't have to be afraid."  
No.

"No, he's... no, it's... you're still afraid."  
Yes.

"But not of Alec."  
Yes.

"Coil?"  
No.

 _Afraid of Coil,_ her power supplies; Lisa pushes it aside, tries to think.

 _Not Alec, not Coil, can't be Rachel, that doesn't make sense here - who else does she even_ know _to be afraid of-_

Oh.

"Tay?"

The doorknob shifts under her touch and her power whispers _uneasy_.

"...are you scared of me?" Lisa asks, and the knob jerks to the right, sharp, convulsive.

Lisa draws in a shuddering breath, connects the dots. Hates that she has to ask, to communicate.

To confirm.

"You're afraid of me because you hurt Alec."  
Yes.

"Because you used your power to hurt him."  
Yes.

"Without my permission."  
Yes.

Her head is throbbing, comedown from the adrenaline, overtaxing her power after already using it today. "Tay... you don't need my perm-"  
Yes, the doorknob says under her fingers. Yes, yes, yes.

Lisa stops. Forces herself to rethink, rephrase, reminds herself that she's talking to Tay.

She brings her other hand up, presses her palm against paint-muted grain, feels cool wood warm under her hand.

"I'll say it as many times as you need me to. Whenever you need me to." She swallows around the tightness in her throat. "I give you permission to use your power, Tay. I- I give you permission to defend yourself."

Her eyes are stinging. "You have the right to protect yourself but if you need my permission, I will give it to you _every goddamn time."_

The doorknob is still under her fingers.

"What Alec did was _fucked up_ ," she says, "and you're not to blame for that, that's on him."

Silence, just for a moment.

"It's on me, too," Lisa says. "And I'm so sorry."  
No.

 _Don't be sorry_.

"It's _my fault_ ," she tells the door, feels the weight of the truth roll off her tongue.

Because it is, isn't it?

It was her fault when she took Tay to Rachel's, it's her fault now.

If she'd been more careful, more forceful, grabbed Alec and hauled him out to the hallway, threw him out on the sidewalk and didn't _give a shit_ about him or Brian?

None of this would have happened.

She chose not to make a choice until it was too late, and now she reaps the consequence of her indecision.

"I'm the reason you're scared in the first place," she murmurs to the door; feels the knob, still under her fingers. Feels the sting of that implicit agreement.

She's so fucking _tired_.

"Tay?"  
Yes.

"It... would it be okay if I sat out here? Kept you company until you feel like coming out?"

She feels the seconds pass, marks them by the pulsebeat in her fingers.

Yes.

She exhales, a shuddering rush. "Okay." Squeezes the doorknob. "Okay."

* * *

She comes back in the hallway, arms loaded with throw pillows and a cushion from the couch; unceremoniously drops them by the closet door.

"I brought you a couple of pillows," she tells Tay through the door. "Just... if you want."   
Yes, the doorknob says.

 _Thank you_.

Lisa makes sure she's not blocking the closet door, drops down onto the couch cushion; leans against the wall, closes her eyes.

She's asleep before she realizes it.

* * *

Brian calls the next morning.


	16. Shadows on the Walls

The club is closed, is light and silence and space, so different from Brian's memory of pulsing bass and the dark wrapped all around.

He leans on the bar as his old friend listens, the inventory clipboard forgotten in her hand.

"That's all I'm looking for," Brian says. "Who's new in town, who's been making waves, new capes on the scene for the last couple of months."

"You know." His friend pauses, her brow wrinkling as she looks him up and down. "...if you need a job, I can talk with Dima, see if we need someone for bouncer work or something else. All above-board-"

Brian's already shaking his head. "I've got something else lined up. This is- it's for my sister? She's starting to get in with some bad people and... I'm trying to keep an eye out for her. Ear to the ground." He tries to smile, feels that tension in him grow until she echoes him.

"No, no, it's cool, I getcha, Brian." Her smile softens. "Honestly wish I'd had someone like you around when I was a kid, you know?"

His smile mirrors hers. "Yeah." He glances at his watch. "Look, I should probably let you get back to inventory. Going to be a busy night?"

She grimaces. "All nights are busy. I'll ask around; give me a call in a day or two. I gave you my number, right?" She's already scribbling it on a napkin, pushing it across the bartop and watching as Brian stuffs it in his pocket and steps back.

"Thanks. I'll get out of your hair, give you a call sometime tomorrow night?"

"Leave a voicemail - it's okay, I'll need the reminder."

She calls out as he starts to walk away. "Oh, Brian?"

He turns, looks back. "Yeah?"

She looks up from her clipboard at him. "If you can... try just asking her what's going on with her, 'kay?"

"...I'll keep it in mind."

He leaves the club, heading out into the cool evening air as he walks to his car.

He passes by people already queuing to come in, preoccupied with his own thoughts.

_Two months._

Two months of Lisa pulling away from the team, the gap growing with every dropped meeting and missed call.

He should have seen it for what it was.

He should have seen it for what it was, because it happened to Aisha.

Because it happened to _him_.

He wishes he could just go to Lisa. Tell her that it's okay, that he _understands_ , that he'd thought things through after he'd talked with Alec.

How he'd rejected hypotheses on the tip of his tongue as he tried to think through _why_ she was hiding all this, arrived at the conclusion he should have expected.

That someone's got a hold on her.

He knows he can't; knows if he went in there holding empathy in open palms and placatories on his lips, she'd recoil like a stray cat - pride and fury, rejecting any admission of weakness.

He knows if he goes to her, she's going to deflect. She'll treat him like an intruder.

If he wants to get through to her, he has to show her he _knows_ what's going on with her: find her secret and pull it into the light, where she can't deny that it exists.

And once they're there, once he has her _acknowledging_ it, they can have a good talk about what's going on.

This is a great plan.

Brian wishes he wasn't so terrible at secrets; that was always a Tattletale thing, and it's only now that he realizes his dependence.

He wishes he'd gotten to her sooner. That he'd recognized this for what it was, done something, stepped in before it got this _bad_.

He gets in his car, locks the doors. Starts the engine and pulls out, taking the turn deeper into the Docks.

Heading for the loft.

* * *

Brian comes up the stairs, sees the first-aid kit open on the coffee table, contents scattered like autumn leaves.

 _Shit_.

Nobody on the couch, but he can see an open bedroom door, hear a boyish voice swearing softly.

"Alec?"

The swearing pauses for just a moment, resumes with a particularly vehement "Mother _fucker_."

"Alec? Everything okay?" Brian heads for the bedroom hallway, looks down at the couch as he passes, can't see any blood, can't tell what Alec needed the first-aid kit _for_.

He comes to Alec's room, looks through the open doorway. Sees Alec, frantically pulling socks out of a bag with one hand, his other arm pressed close to his chest.

"Hey, man-"

Alec's head whips around; the other boy looks at Brian, and he looks like shit, pale and sweaty, pupils blown wide and black.

He smiles at Brian, a ghastly baring of his teeth. "Hey, man," he echoes.

"Alec... what the hell? What happened?"

And Alec just _laughs_ , this sincere, bubbling upwelling of liquid joy; he looks back down at his bag, digs out another pair of socks, tosses them over his shoulder.

Brian watches their floppy arc, the flaccid _smack_ as they hit the wall and slide to the floor. "What did you do to your arm?"

Alec pulls a lone sock out, squints at it; pitches it over his shoulder and goes pawing through the bag for its mate. "Door."

"You fucked up your arm in a door."

"Mmhm."

"Bad enough- Alec, is it broken?"

"Probably."

"How did you break your arm in a _door?"_

"Well." Alec finds the other sock, pitches it over his shoulder. "Remember the other day, when you were freaking out about Lisa's girlfriend?"

"Alec-"

"I kiiiinda went over and talked to her."

"God _damn_ it, Alec... I told you not to do that! I was going to handle this!"

Alec just _laughs_ at that. "C'mon, Captain Clenchfucker. We both know you fuck up everything you touch. No way you wouldn't've made things worse than I did."

"She shut your arm in a _door_."

"Twice." Alec turns to his chest of drawers, tugs one open. He starts pulling clothes out and tossing them at his bag; not his usual wardrobe, either. Blander, more _normal_ than Brian's used to him wearing. "Wasn't fast enough."

"Alec... what the hell did you do to piss her off?"

"Nothing." The boy's voice is sullen.

"That's bullshit. Lisa's not like that - she doesn't fly off on you like Rachel does. If she broke your arm, she probably had a reason-"

"Fuck off!" A T-shirt slaps against Brian's face; he claws it away, and Alec's facing him, bristling. "Fuck you and your 'how does she have a _girlfriend_ , I'm so _worried._ ' I go to _talk_ to her and she _breaks my arm_ and all you say is 'that's _bullshit_ , that's _your fault_ , Lisa wouldn't _do_ that.'"

He turns back to the drawer: scrapes clothes out of it, tosses them on the floor, peels off a false bottom and takes out a thick envelope of stash cash.

Jams it in his bag. "You wanna know how I broke my arm, Brian?"

"...Lisa closed the door on-"

"I found a girl _locked in her closet_ ," Alec spits, glaring him right in the eye as he jerks the zipper on his bag closed. "I was reaching in to pull her out and she _broke my fucking arm_."

He picks up his bag, settles it on his good shoulder. "But _that's just Lisa_ , right? Locking girls in closets like she normally does, fuck you Alec for invading her privacy."

He pushes past Brian into the living room, turns to face him.

"Lisa does something _you_ don't like, and it's the end of the fucking world; she does something _I_ don't like, and it's my fucking fault? Not the first time that's happened, Brian."

He spins away, stomps for the stairs. "It's a pattern!" he calls out. "And I don't want to see where that goes from here."

Brian stares after him, open-mouthed; listens to him descend, hears the front door slam closed behind him.

And then he's alone.

* * *

He drops down onto the couch. Feels wet-spreading chill under him; digs out a bag of half-frozen peas from under his ass, tosses it on the coffee table with the scattered first-aid kit.

 _Need to inventory that, restock what he took_.

He stares at the dark television screen, can't find the energy to do anything but sit there and let his head run.

 _Alec's full of shit_.

It's an obvious conclusion; ever since he joined the team, it's like one of his jobs has been finding Brian's chain and yanking it whenever he can.

Brian thinks back, remembers the darkness of his eyes. _Probably high, too_.

His thoughts are scant consolation: yes, Alec's a manipulator, an asshole, probably running on pain and painkillers as he spouts shit and plays the victim...

...but that fact that he chose to _leave_ instead of sticking around and stirring shit, to actually _go_?

 _A girl, locked in her closet_.

He knows there's a reasonable explanation, is already formulating one in his head, but Alec's words stick between his thoughts.

He's full of shit, but he _left_ , and probably isn't coming back. There was a surety in his words that leaves Brian unsettled: if Alec wasn't completely full of it, what wasn't he lying about?

He doesn't know.

Seems like he doesn't know a lot of things, these days.

It feels like everything's coming together around him, like he's stepped in a bear trap and he's watching it slowly close on his leg.

He can't figure out what's going on. He knows any word back from his other sources is going to be too little, too late; Lisa's gone, Rachel's with her, Alec's rabbited, gone to ground...

...and Brian has nowhere to turn, can't even _run_ because he can't leave Aisha where she is, can't take her with him because that's kidnapping and the outcome's even worse.

He sits on the couch, palms pressed over his eyes.

That's when his phone goes off, an insistent vibration in his pocket, one that startles him because it's his _work_ burner.

He fumbles it out, squints at the screen, reads BLOCKED NUMBER, but he already knows who it is, why she's calling.

 _Alec_.

Brian holds the phone to his ear. Hears the call connect, the hiss of an open line. She's silent; letting him make the first move, letting him commit.

"Tattletale." He tries to inject authority into his voice, but his words come out dull, heavy with fatigue. "If this is a game, I'm not playing anymore."

 _"I see the same issue is on both our minds,"_ a man says, smooth and self-assured.

_"Hello, Grue. My name is Coil."_


	17. Chapter 17

She wakes up sore and aching, back against the wall and a phone singing shrill and insistent from the next room.

Lisa pushes to her feet, makes her way to the living room, swearing softly as her phone falls silent.

 _One missed call_ , her phone reads; gives her a number she recognizes.

 _Brian_.

She grimaces. Dials her voicemail.

"Lisa, it's Brian."

She listens as he exhales in a staticky gust.

"Look, I- I heard about last night. Call me back? I just want to talk, make sure you're okay."

Lisa thumbs a button, listens as the message replays.

For a moment, she's tempted to draw on her power; decides it's not worth it for four sentences on her voicemail.

And besides, something in the tone of Brian's voice suggests maybe he's not going to be an asshole for this.

She calls him.

One ring, two, and she hears the call connect.

"Lise." She can hear the relief in his voice, the line crackling as he laughs, nervous. "Wasn't expecting to hear back from you this quickly."

"Brian." His name is cold on her lips, barbed like a snowflake, and she listens as he sighs.

 _De-escalating_ , her power whispers. _Controlling responses._

The words are a spike of ice-cold thought right through her temple; she grits her teeth, can't hold back a hiss of pain.

"Lisa. Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She hears cloth rustle, a mumbled _I swear to god_ -

_Angry. Doesn't want to scare you._

She pinches the bridge of her nose, pressing in with her fingers until it feels like she's digging at her skull. "I'm _fine_."

"Right." She can hear the doubt in his voice without even using her power. "Look. I heard about last night from Alec, but... Lisa, I need to talk to you."

"We're talking right now, Brian."

He exhales. "Look. Last night... made some things clear for me. Things that... things are kind of fucked up, and some of it's my fault, all right?"

_Angry at Alec. At you._   
_Angry at himself._

"I just want to talk to you about this, Lise. Face to face. Anywhere you want - the loft, your place, wherever."

Lisa can hear the raw edge in his voice, that rough sincerity; feels how it erodes at resolve already undercut by fatigue and pain.

How it feels to have someone else saying it's _their_ fault for once.

"Not the loft," she finds herself saying. "There's a coffee shop, corner of Garrity and Loam. I'll see you there in an hour."

"All right. I'll be there."

He hangs up; Lisa looks down at the phone in her hands, then up at the hallway to her bedroom.

* * *

She stands in the bedroom hallway, rests fingertips on the battered door.

The pillows she put down last night are gone.

Lisa knocks, a gentle tap of her knuckles on the closet door.

"Tay?"

The knob turns, the latch clicks; she steps back as the door eases open.

Crouches down, sees Tay, blinking in the brightness, cushions stuffed around her like especially plush mushrooms in a catacomb.

 _Airbags in the most comfortable car accident ever_ , she thinks, can't keep from smiling.

"Hey." She watches the corners of Tay's mouth, watches that slight pull of an almost-smile.

"...my teammate called," she finally says. "About last night. He wants to talk."

She sees Tay's brow crease. "It's not bad - you're not in trouble, and I'm not either? I think I'm not in trouble, at least."

A pale-white hand worms out from the dark/cushions/closet, reaches out and touches her fingers.

Lisa takes her hand, squeezes gently. "I'm going to be gone for an hour, maybe an hour and a half. That okay?"

She sees Tay's silhouette shift in the dark, feels the other girl's fingers squeeze hers in silent assent and pull free.

* * *

"Yusuf?" The barista's voice has a strident clarity to it, cutting through the murmur of conversation. "Grande latte, triple shot."

Lisa sits in the back of the coffeeshop; unoccupied, privacy almost guaranteed by how her table sits right next to the bathrooms.

She takes a pull of her drink, tastes the subtle soft darkness of the cold-brew and how it's harshened by the shots of espresso; how it sours her stomach, barely undercuts the throbbing in her head.

Skipping breakfast was a mistake.

She sees Brian come in as she deliberates over a scone, waves until she catches his eye.

He detours past the register, heads for her table; pulls out the chair opposite hers, leans on the back as he regards her.

"You look like-"

"Brian." His name comes out dark and bitter. "I've had _a night_ , okay?"

She watches the tension in his shoulders, muscles tensing under his jacket-

-and then he breathes out, forces himself to relax.

He sits. Watches as she takes another sip.

"Lisa."

She swallows.

"I'm sorry," he says. "Last night... it made it pretty clear that I've made some mistakes with our... study group."

Lisa watches as he exhales, how his hands rest on the table in loose fists.

"I tried to be in charge, but my focus was on what we could do together instead of making sure we did it _together_. As a team.

"And because of that, I turned a blind eye on things I shouldn't have ignored. I fucked up, Lise, and it feels like you've taken the brunt of that."

 _Lost trust in someone close to him_ , her power hisses, and Lisa hunches her shoulders as the susurrus of conversation becomes invasive, presses in around her.

"Zack," the barista calls. "Venti decaf strawberries and creme frapp, with whip."

She threads her fingers around her cup, feels plastic slick with condensation. Tries to figure things out.

He's saying all the right things: connecting with her, showing that even if he doesn't understand, he's _trying_.

But... it feels too easy. Like he's yielded to pressures she's not aware of.

"...what did Alec tell you?" she asks.

Watches his face, the set of his shoulders, and knows before Brian even opens his mouth.

 _Discovered identity of Alec's father_.

She understands and she doesn't; Alec wouldn't have just _told_ him, he hid it, never talked about his past-

-but it makes _sense_ : Brian's angry at Alec because he's Heartbreaker's son, angry at Lisa because she knew and didn't tell him.

"Sarah? Tall iced mocha for Sarah?"

Lisa asks the obvious question, interrupting Brian partway through his account of last night.

"Alec told you about his dad?"

And Brian looks at her, hesitates, and his expression...

She reaches for her power, grabs, pulls it open.

Gets a name.

 _Coil_.

 _Oh,_ ** _fuck_**.

Drawing on her power is almost compulsive now, like she's picking at a thread and watching everything unravel around her.

Her power stabs into her head, injects information about phone calls and small omissions, how the two of them _fit_ -

"Oh, Brian." She presses the heel of a hand against her temple, presses like it's a dam at breaking strain. "Brian, no, you can't _trust him_."

"Lisa-" He reaches for her, touches her arm and she flinches away, coffee spilling like old blood.

Brian's been talking with Coil. Coil shared information with him, and Brian _reciprocated_.

Coil knows about this meeting.

Coil knows she's not home.

Lisa remembers Tay's eyes in the dark, fingers squeezing hers.

Asking if she's going to be okay on her own.

Her chair clatters back as she stands.

Brian calls to her as she runs, but she's not paying attention to him anymore.

* * *

Lisa practically flies home, head splitting as she uses her power to navigate congested streets and run red lights, heart racing as she jogs up the flights of fire stairs to her floor.

She's halfway down the hallway when she sees how her apartment door's off its hinges.

When she realizes she's too late.

She's in her living room before she has time to think, processing a thousand little things: powder charges on the doorjamb by the hinges and latch, how cupboard doors have been ripped from their fittings by breaching bars and sheer force.

How every place a person could hide in her apartment has been torn open.

How Tay's gone.


	18. Persistence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: This chapter contains summarized descriptions of abuse from the perspective of an abuser.

Thomas Calvert sits at his desk in his reinforced bunker, and he meditates on the nature of consequence.

"Acquisitions team is on-site." The words crackle through the speaker on his desktop, compression and encryption driving out nuance. "Waiting on your go, boss."

* * *

He remembers when he first received his power, when he first split the world and found freedom at the bottom of a vial.

He remembers finding the limits of his power, the revelation he came to:

_No consequences for acting render his actions inconsequential._

He calls his Tattletale in for a debrief, one that ends in the usual: tears and pleading and the respect she finds at muzzlepoint.

And he has to _discard_ that, throw away a world and let her carry on.

He has to repeat it whenever he calls her in: the novelty palls, then grates. He's forced to choose her insolence, time and again, knowing that the limitation will always be _him_ and the things he's willing to live with.

* * *

The girl is a change, a breakaway from the doldrums and the rut.

Thomas reads that same insolence in her repeated violations, her petty invasions of a refuge and redoubt that is his and his alone.

She makes him look weak: he's forced to divide realities around her, run scenarios and traps to identify her vulnerabilities, and time after time he's left with failure regardless of how he slices it.

And then?

That slow accretion of knowledge bears fruit.

Experience and luck accrue, he tosses the coin-

-and it comes up in his favor.

He has her.

* * *

He discards subservience, domestication: she's a single point of failure, a _reminder_ of his failure, and using her makes him dependent on someone who hurt him.

He finds another use.

He has her.  
He doesn't _need_ her.  
And she's seen him at his weakest.

* * *

She's a diversion for him, catharsis: he looks down at her, small and shaking, and the thought preys on him.

That he's the only one who gets to remember it. That it's his choice.

What he's willing to live with.

He collapses reality. Walks out of her containment.

He _commits_ , and it changes everything; he walks into her cell, sees dread in her eyes that's never been there before.

She remembers, and that remembrance is _intoxicating_ for him.

For once in his life, he has someone he can share this with.

Someone for whom this is _real_ , the same way it is for him.

Thomas Calvert's self-control shatters like diamond.

* * *

The problem with consequences is that actions become consequential.

The problem with the girl remembering is that she _remembers;_ she knows what's in store for her.

Doesn't react.

Doesn't _flinch_.

Thomas arranges an accident for her father; shows her the photos.

She doesn't even cry.

The problem with commitment is that you have to live with what you've done.

He looks at the girl and sees something finite, expended: a sponge he's wrung out once the dishes were done.

* * *

Toys break.

He keeps the girl as a half-hearted reminiscence, but the memory of what they had together is something he can't dispel, peckish plucking at his mind that he can't quite dismiss.

So he gives her to his Sarah: a whipping girl and an object lesson, a reminder of consequence.

A reality check they both share, now.

He gives her the girl and he makes it _real_ , makes it a safe little game; he pretends at consequence and commitment, never worrying about the risk.

* * *

Thomas Calvert sits at his desk in his reinforced bunker, and he thinks about actions and their consequences.

"Go," he says. Listens to crackling acknowledgment.

He doesn't split the world.

It's only fair to give her a sporting chance.

Even if he holds all the cards.


	19. Chapter 19

She stares at the wreckage of her apartment.

Tries to think.

She tries to think and she can't; all her focus is on how _casually_ her home has been torn into, the effortlessness that's gone into sending her a message.

Telling her that nowhere is safe.

That she has nothing left anymore.

She can't stay here; the open door is broken, this isn't her home, and even with Brockton neighbors, someone's probably called the cops.

She needs to go.

* * *

She has a bag, packed for emergencies; Brian had insisted on it, gave them checklists off prepper websites: clothes, cash and refillable cards, fake ID.

A gun.

She pulls back the side, checks the action, lets everything _snick_ back into place before loading the magazine.

And she realizes she's going to kill him.

The thought is like a balloon shoved in her head, inflated until it feels like her skull's coming apart at the seams.

Coil's taken _everything_ from her.

Her freedom.

Her home.

Her friend.

She can't even bring herself to think about Tay, how she's probably alive, because she knows that's what he _wants_ ; how her faith in her friend being alive is just leverage for him to lean on.

She can't even _hope_ anymore, alone and hurting and the only think she can think is that he took _everything_ from her.

So she's going to do the same to him.

It's not like she has anything left.

* * *

She's still staring down at the gun when she hears the noise.

Hears someone in what's left of her apartment.

Not her neighbors, not the cops; one's probably hiding behind locked doors, and the other would make more noise.

Which means it's Coil. Coil, or someone who works for him.

She remembers that Brian works for him now, how he probably called his new boss when she ran out of the coffee shop.

She can already see how he wants this to play out: He has Tay.

Makes his appeal to Lisa: to come in, to be safe.

Safe on his terms, wrapped in that smug, suffocating, paternal tone.

Safe so she can never run again.

Fuck that.

She carefully racks the slide on her pistol, uses her hand to muffle the sound of a round chambering; listens to footsteps, that distinctive _creak_ of that one floorboard in the hallway.

And she _moves_ , pushing her bedroom door open with her foot, pistol up and tracking like she's drilled, lining up her sight-picture on the figure standing there, three dots in a line right over her center-of-mass-

_Her?_

She focuses on her target, tall and spindly, eyes wide under a rat's-nest of dark curls. Not moving, not _breathing_ as she stares at the pistol in Lisa's hands.

Tay.

Lisa lowers the gun, flicks her thumb over the safety; watches how Tay tracks the motion with her eyes, lifts her gaze to meet Lisa's.

"How?" The word spills from Lisa's lips, hoarse and raw and _confused_ in a way that she hates.

Tay shifts position, puts her weight on her back foot until that hallway floorboard creaks; bounces on it two or three times, looks at Lisa and tries a tremulous smile.

"You heard them coming-" Lisa cuts herself off, tries to think through her headache. "No, you _felt_ them coming. With your power."

Something about that doesn't feel right to her, doesn't add up with what she knows about Tay's power.

She knows she's missing something; puts it aside in favor of a more pressing concern.

"You felt them coming, and..." She looks at what remains of her bedroom. "You hid? Somewhere they didn't look."

Tay turns slightly, points, and Lisa tries to push her head, tries to figure out where she's pointing, where she hid, but there's nothing that direction but...

...the front door, and the apartment across from hers that nobody rents because of the billboard outside.

"You went _outside,_ " Lisa breathes, and Tay nods, a sick expression flitting across her face.

Even without using her power, she knows what's wrong; she moves towards the other girl, wraps arms around her in a hug.

"I understand," she says as black curls tickle her face. "It's _okay_ , you did what you had to so you could keep safe-"

It isn't working; Tay's body language is all wrong, stiff and apprehensive-

Lisa braces herself, draws on her power.

_Afraid of you._   
_Unused to violence._   
_Knows you were about to shoot her._

_Trusted you._

The pain is worse than anything: not just the raw ache of her power, stressed to the breaking point, but the sight-picture that feels like it's been branded in her mind's eye, an ellipsis superimposed over Tay's heart and her finger on the trigger.

"I was scared, too," she says finally, her voice rough. "I- I wasn't-"

She forces herself to swallow, feels the constriction in her throat.

"I'm _sorry_ ," she whispers. Repeats it.

Finds she can't stop repeating it, the words rushing over her lips like water until she feels Tay's arms close around her.

And Lisa starts to cry, arms pressed to Tay's back like flightless wings.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: This chapter has a character engaging in suicidal ideation.
> 
> If thoughts of suicide or self-harm are a concern for you, I encourage you to take care of yourself, whether that be talking to a friend or calling a crisis line in your geographic area.
> 
> Chapter summary in the end notes.

She doesn't get to cry for long: the luxury of relief is just another thing Coil's denied her.

The one thing she still has is Tay; that she's okay, that she's still _free_ despite Lisa's fuckups... and she needs to make sure Tay stays that way.

She pulls the other girl into the wreckage of her bedroom, grabs Tay a backpack, stuffs it with clothes.

And then they're gone, never looking back at the ruin of her life.

* * *

Lisa gets Tay in the car, starts driving; no destination in mind besides _not here_ , taking turns at random to try and shake any tails.

She has to focus past the pain, keep an eye on the traffic, keep an eye on the rearview, remember if she's seen those cars before; she hates how she's blind, how this would be _easy_ with even a scrap of her power.

She's aware of Tay sitting next to her, pulled in tight, arms wrapped around her backpack as she watches the city slide by.

She's aware of her failure.

She remembers Tay's eyes from before Lisa knew her name, remembers Coil's question.

_How much is she worth to you?_

She's given _everything_ , all to try and make sure that Tay's safe.

And it hasn't been enough.

 _She's_ never been enough; the thought is corrosive, eats away at her in time with the pulse-ache in her head.

 _I'm poison,_ she thinks. _And poison should go to someone who_ deserves _it._

Lisa takes the next right, heads for Rachel's den: the only option she can think of, the only person she knows she can trust.

She can leave Tay with her. Go after Coil on her own, so she's the only one in danger.

She knows Rachel's not the best option: if it was about making Tay _better_ , a half-feral girl who can't relate to people wouldn't be _anyone's_ best option.

But this isn't about better; this is about _safe_ , and Lisa's seen Rachel with Tay. Knows she cares about her, has the resources and the power to protect her until Lisa can do the job for good.

She glances at Tay; the other girl looks over at her, tries a smile, tired and worn.

And Lisa thinks about the advances she's made, all on her own; how she was able to keep herself safe when Lisa couldn't.

The thought hurts, but it's a _good_ hurt; encouraging, reassuring, a balm for her tattered soul.

Even if Lisa's gone, there's still some hope for her.

She has a goal, now.

Get to Rachel's.

Drop Tay off.

Kill Coil.

She repeats it in her head like a mantra as she drives, as she turns onto Rachel's street.

As she sees Rachel's den, lit in flashing green and white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believing she's failed Tay, Lisa decides to take her to Rachel and leave her there while she goes after Coil on her own, not expecting to survive.
> 
> They arrive at Rachel's to find her den surrounded by PRT vehicles, their lights flashing green and white.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: This chapter contains references to implied pet/animal death. Summary in end notes.

She sees the lights, the vehicles; turns onto the next cross-street as casually as she can.

Tries to look calm, _act_ calm, even though her mind is whirling with dreadful probability. Reaches down and flips on the radio, tunes it to a news station.

"-with no indication that the accident will be clear before rush hour starts, so commuters from downtown are encouraged to avoid..."

She ends up pulling into a parking lot several blocks away, nestled in by an abandoned strip mall; she yanks the shifter into park, undoes her seatbelt and half-twists around, reaching into the backseat for the laptop in her bag as she listens to the radio with half an ear.

"...and uh, we have some breaking news from the PRT, who have just aired a statement from the hero Miss Militia."

"Tay, can you turn it up?" She jerks a zipper open, starts pawing things she didn't even remember packing.

"Earlier today, we received advance warning regarding a planned attack by the villain Hellhound." Miss Militia's voice is calm, confident, aggravating as it brushes up against the torn edges of Lisa's life.

"Using intelligence provided by PRT analysts, a squad of PRT officers and myself confronted the villain in her hideout, and after a short altercation, successfully apprehended her."

The radio isn't any louder, and Lisa hasn't unearthed her laptop yet; she drops back into the driver's seat, is reaching for the volume knob when she sees Tay.

She's huddled in the passenger seat, shoulders hunched, squeezing her backpack to her chest. Focused on the radio to the exclusion of all else - Lisa touches her shoulder and she _flinches_ , an expression Lisa can't parse flitting across her face.

"The PRT received an anonymous tip," Miss Militia says, answering a question Lisa missed. "We looked into it and identified a trend when we looked at records of past events."

"Are you okay?" Lisa asks quietly, hating the words as they come out; Tay just shakes her head, sharp and dismissive as she leans closer to the radio, as someone asks about casualties.

"There were no fatalities," Miss Militia says. "Hellhound attacked with a pack of dogs that she had enhanced with her power, and the PRT responded with an appropriate level of force. There were some injuries, but all injured parties are in PRT care."

And for a moment, all Lisa can feel is _relief_ ; no fatalities means Rachel's alive.

She looks over at Tay, and that hazy relief burns away like morning fog: the other girl's still hunched over, miserable, looking up at Lisa with aching eyes.

 _Injuries_ , Lisa realizes. _She's worried about Rachel being hurt, her_ dogs _being hurt._

 _She's hoping I know something_.

She breaks eye contact, stares at the backpack in Tay's arms, how the other girl's arms are trembling, her knuckles white where skin's gone taut over the bone.

"I don't know," she says, hating that the words are so small in the middle of everything that surrounds them. "I- I _can't_ , not right now."

She reaches, blindly fumbles for the radio; turns it off.

Silence lands around her, a spider trapped under a glass; she tries to use it, get some space to organize her thoughts, piece together another-

Her phone rings, shrill and sudden; she digs it out, looks at the display. Feels her gut twist as she sees that the number's blocked, knows what that means.

Who's calling.

She hits _answer_ , brings the phone up to her ear.

"Sarah!" His voice is dulcet, scratchy caramel in her ear. "So nice of you to pick up."

"You son of a bitch." The words spill out of her, savage and bitter; she's numb and she wants to break into tears all over again, but isn't going to give him the satisfaction.

Coil doesn't respond right away; he lets her words sit in the space between them, gives her a chance to reflect on her response.

"We had an _agreement_ , Sarah," he finally says. "Take care of your commitments, keep our secrets, and I let you have your... pet projects."

Lisa glances over at Tay; just for the space of a bare second, long enough to catch the white all around her eyes, the tremor as weak arms cinch even tighter around her backpack.

Long enough for Lisa to know that she _knows_.

"You broke our agreement, and that means I need to step in."

And Lisa _laughs_ , bitter and despairing. "Does _stepping in_ mean Ra-Bitch in PRT custody? _She knows what you've done._ I've told her everything." She lets the words erupt out of her, blends the lie with the rest of it, hopes he won't notice.

"I assumed as much." His words are oil on her troubled water, thick and slick and suffocating. "That's why I arranged for the PRT to find a copy of your report."

It takes her a moment to connect the dots, to remember the dossiers she wrote for Coil: all her notes about Rachel's power, Lisa speculating about her threat rating, the factors that easily make Rachel a five-plus Master.

That _Miss Militia_ , the hero with easy access to lethal weaponry, was assigned to the strike team.

 _The PRT responded with an appropriate level of force_.

"Secrets have to be kept, Sarah... and animals you can't control need to be put down."

She remembers the dog with the black coat, head propped on Tay's leg, snoring as the girl gently strokes her head.

" _No._ "

"Rachel Lindt won't be cooperating with the PRT," Coil says, and she can hear the satisfaction in his voice. "Not after they've shot the animals she considers people."

Wetness traces down her cheek and she's _shaking;_ she can't look at Tay, can't let Tay see the knowledge she carries.

"This is what -happens-, Sarah. People get hurt because _you can't keep your promises_."

He keeps talking, his voice muffled as fingers close around hers, prise the phone from her unresisting grip; she hears a soft tone as Tay ends the call.

* * *

She throws away her phone. She has to.

She steals a car. She has to.

She doesn't look at Tay, can feel the weight of her gaze; already knows the look on her face, set in guilt and disappointment and betrayal.

The Undersiders are burned: Brian's under Coil's thumb, Rachel's in custody, Alec's- fuck Alec, actually.

Lisa has herself and Tay, some cash and clothes and a gun, a power threatening to break her skull apart from the inside if she reaches for it again.

She needs to do something she would never do. Go somewhere Coil wouldn't expect her to, to someone she'd never-

_oh_

* * *

There's an alley, a door on one side for _Employees Only_ , the heavy bass beat of charthump that does absolutely nothing to relieve Lisa's headache.

She's wearing the spare mask she had in her bag, pulled the hood of Tay's sweatshirt up to cover her hair and given her a scarf to cover her face: a nod to unwritten rules she barely sees the point in following anymore.

She reaches up, knocks on the door until a staff member opens it; explains that she needs to talk to Faultline about business.

They wait.

The door opens: Faultline, in all her fusion-fashion glory, stares down at her, mask impassive and unreadable.

"No," is all Faultline says, blunt and dismissive and Lisa realizes this is a mistake, that this is a leap of faith and she missed and she's _falling_ -

The door clicks closed, and Lisa doesn't think; just flings herself at the door, pounding on it with a fist until it opens a crack and Faultline's there, glaring at her.

"I said _no_." Faultline's words have an edge to them now, sour and irritated. "Shove off or I'll have Newter throw you in a dumpster-"

Lisa reaches up, claws at the mask covering her eyes, peels it away. Stares at Faultline, barefaced.

She has nothing left, and Faultline falls silent.

Lisa swallows. "My name is Lisa," she says. "I fucked up. I fucked up _bad_ , and I need-"

She glances back at Tay, still hunched in on herself.

" _We_ need your help," she amends.

For a moment, the only thing she hears is that raw thumping beat through the open door, almost as fast as her heart.

Faultline's mask tilts, angles as she looks over Lisa's shoulder at Tay.

Back to Lisa.

And then Faultline steps back, pulls the door open, holds it there.

"You'd better come in," she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lisa and Tay get away from Rachel's, and Lisa tries to figure out what to do next. A radio report explains that Hellhound is in custody. Coil calls, explains that Lisa has failed in her commitments, failed to keep her end of their bargain. He's shared a report she wrote with the PRT, with the implication that the PRT went into Rachel's thinking they had to use lethal force against her dogs.
> 
> Out of options, Lisa turns to the one person Coil would never consider her allying with: Faultline.


End file.
